A Favorite Poem

Ruby Slippers



The wicked witch roared into the schoolyard,
swooping and swirling upon her smoldering mop.
(The mop was a flop, but her broom was on strike and left her no recourse.)
A stinking, sulphurous trail of burning embers branded her wake.
In terror, the children ran, but not fast enough.
Cruelly she snagged the first muffin baby within reach,
and wrenched the poor darling right off her feet.
“Where are me slippers, ye revolting worm?” she belched hoarsely,
her breath as hot and putrid as the wind that blew her in.
“I know they’re here, I can smell them.
They be as plain as that wad of gum in your ugly hatch!” she screeched.
Aghast and ablubber, the muffin babe could do naught but wail,
“I want my momma…I want my momma…I want my momma!”
Winking slyly at the carrot top writhing in her knurled grasp, she whispered,
“I want your momma too, puddin, if she be hiding me slippers.”
Beside herself, the carrot top, muffin baby tossed her cookies all over the witch.
Revolted, the mop nearly bolted before the hag could throttle its gears.
“I’ll show you who’s boss!” the witch crowed, roughly garroting her steed.
And the carrot top dangled high above the ground,
reminding the witch evermore of a piece of meat.
Wiping the spittle from her chin, the old harridan breathed,
“I wants me slippers, but you are a right tasty little poppit.
Mayhaps I should come back later. What do ye think little one?”
Too frightened to think, the muffin baby screamed… and screamed…
and screamed until the whole school trembled with ague.
The very clouds in the sky quivered and leaked tears of fright.
And the poor mop had had quite enough.
She popped all her gears…and left the witch flailing in a heap.
The tears were rain…and the rain was poison to the witch.
And the witch could do nothing as the
carrot top, muffin baby hit the ground and ran.
She ran as fast as she could with her short little legs…
and her high heeled Ruby slippers.